


runnin' (reloading)

by floralin



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Running Away, abuse/etc NOT between nahyuck, inspired by nct dream's ridin' mv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24011620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralin/pseuds/floralin
Summary: "hi," the boy says. rapturous, enchanting. "i'm na jaemin."donghyuck blinks, a bit entranced. "i'm lee donghyuck."
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Na Jaemin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	runnin' (reloading)

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in like 2 hours so i'm sorry for any mistakes aaa

It’s raining.

Donghyuck still runs, of course; there isn’t an _option_ at this point, so he pelts through the downpour and barely bothers at the muddy water soaking through his shoes and he _runs_.

His hands are still bleeding and his head throbs. The night is foggy and his vision is clouded and the streetlights blur together. Donghyuck runs.

Temperatures always rise in the summer by a drastic amount, and the storm doesn’t do much except scent the air with ozone and icky stuffiness. His phone is tucked safely in the inner pockets of his ratty old jacket and it jostles heavily with each step he takes; the droplets cling to his dripping hair, running down the sunkenness around his eyes and the crevices of his nose and cheeks in streams. White noise pounds in his ears, spurred by the wind, and Donghyuck clenches his teeth and ignores the heave of his chest and the ache in his legs and keeps going.

The city is a terrifying sight at night. He’s an eighteen-year-old in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a half-charged phone, a stolen credit card swiped off the kitchen table, and the unwashed, sodden clothes clinging to his thin form and the adults around him don’t spare him a glance, probably because he’s dashing too fast for them to catch the red staining his fingers and forehead, mixing with the rainwater.

Donghyuck stops to catch his breath in an alleyway by a convenience store.

It’s pitch-black. Donghyuck is used to the dark, too used to it. Furious shouting and words that cut worse than knives and punches thrown blindly in a small, cramped room reeking of alcohol, hearts breaking, bottles shattering—yeah, he can handle it. He’s handled a lot of shit in the past.

And then his stomach growls, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten since the day before.

He manages to clean up a bit in one of those dirty, unsanitized public bathrooms, washes the blood off, and runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to make it look less...hassled. He’s too tired to be disgusted.

The nearest diner is a cheap-looking thing, because Donghyuck doesn’t need to draw more suspicious eyes to himself, and whoever shows up at one of these places past midnight is either a shady piece of work or a teenager looking to get high, both options unlikely to pay any attention to their surroundings.

He saunters in with his back hunched and hood pulled over his face, and the two waitresses working barely cast him a glance as he gives his order in the most neutral voice he can muster and throws them a practiced smile they take as courteous.

Donghyuck doesn’t expect attention. He bows his head low while he eats and plays with the cuffs of his jacket and keeps his ears alert, and then someone slides into the seat next to him.

One look and he knows the guy isn’t your normal run-of-the-mill, local druggie with too much time on his hands.

This boy’s eyes glint like flintstone. He’s all slightly smeared makeup (from the rain, probably) and bright blue hair and cherry-red lips to contrast, jewelry clinking from his wrists and shining off his pale collarbones, and when he smiles, it’s dangerously beautiful.

Donghyuck has never seen anyone quite like him.

“Hi,” the boy says. Rapturous, enchanting. “I’m Na Jaemin.”

Donghyuck blinks, a bit entranced, because Na Jaemin is pretty and blinding and everything about him screams _too_ - _expensive_ , but the grin slicing his face whispers something lawless.

He swallows and says, “I’m Lee Donghyuck.”

Perhaps it’s the trauma—negligence and cold, lonely nights—and the fact that Donghyuck has not known freedom since his father left and his mother’s salary went to gambles and white powder substances. Perhaps it’s the smashed liquor bottles and shouts of “ _you’ll never amount to anything_ ” and the slurs that drown out in his head, the bruises and cracked mirrors and the band-aids that ran out every few weeks back at the apartment.

He stares as Jaemin swipes a tentative hand over where the glass shards had met his forehead and purses his lips, taking Donghyuck’s hands in his own.

“There are better places to get away from shitty people, y’know?”

Donghyuck doesn’t know how to formulate a response to that. He’s never met Jaemin before, and he’s sure they’ve never crossed paths, but the tiny spark of understanding in his eyes is the first instance of comfort he’s felt in what feels like forever.

“So, wanna get out of here?”

Perhaps it’s none of that, and Na Jaemin is simply a boy of magic, of charms and allure. Perhaps he’ll never know what exactly it is that makes him grab his milkshake and nod and let Jaemin tug him out of that cheap little diner with nothing but a smile and a tip left behind on the table, but the rain has stopped and Donghyuck steps out into the dampness, mind strangely clearer.

“Do you trust me?” Jaemin asks when they’re outside.

Donghyuck looks at the motorcycle, clean, shiny—an attractive thing, if motorcycles can be attractive. “Do I have a choice?”

“We can always walk the kilometers, exercise some,” Jaemin answers, shrugging, and it pulls a laugh out of Donghyuck. Ragged and unused, but still a laugh. It surprises himself.

“Where are we going?”

“Wherever you want.”

“I don’t have a place in mind,” Donghyuck admits.

The neon-orange glow of the city illuminates Jaemin’s face, casts multiple shadows about the curve of his cheekbone, and his eyes gleam through it all the same. “Not a problem. Is there anything you’ve never seen before?”

It’s gentle, the way he speaks. There’s no sympathetic pity in it, no faux-kindness; it’s so raw and genuine and yet still warm, and Donghyuck hardly dares to believe that there are people like him who exist.

Jaemin looks a little sad, too, a little broken, but there’s a brilliance about him that is undeniably real, like he’s seen some things Donghyuck can relate to and found his way out of it somehow. It evokes something in Donghyuck's chest, maybe admiration, maybe hope—like with Jaemin, he can get better too, slowly.

As he casts his gaze to the sky above, the light pollution reflecting shades of purple and gold and amber, he doesn’t need to think hard for an answer.

“Stars. I’ve never seen stars before, actually.”

Jaemin’s answer comes instantly. “Okay. Then we’ll go someplace where you can see the stars and I can take you far away, where the bad guys can’t reach you. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck breathes. “Sound good.”

He climbs on and grabs onto Jaemin’s waist tightly, a thrill running up his spine as the motorbike's engine comes to life beneath him.

“Do you trust me?” An echo of his words earlier.

“...Yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”

Jaemin’s smile could rival the sun’s. “Then hang on tight, sweetheart. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/jaehyuckist)  
> [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/yoonohyuck)  
> leave a kudo and/or comment if you liked it !!  
> much love,  
> lin.


End file.
